Walsh Estate Winery, Temecula, CA

February 10, 2013

12:16 PM

Five days later…

Robert closed Katie’s black notebook, filled with sticky notes, tags and scribbles of magic notes. “You know what I really miss?” Robert asked.

“The days we have visitors?” Katie answered.

“Nah. It’s the kind of days I love talking about wine to complete strangers. The boredom sucks.” He muttered to emphasize his feelings. His feet were still on the counter for hours. “By the way, good stuff here,” he said showing the notebook.

But Katie was staring at the floor with a distant look on her face from the tasting bar. Still?

“Katie, you listening?” Robert said louder.

Katie blinked up. Her tail whipped. “Uh, what?”

“I said good stuff. The notebook. The notes on enchanted items.”

“What?”

“I’m saying it’s good stuff. If your brain is still foggy, why am I talking to a mannequin?”

“Oh, right.” Katie shook her head. “Why not? It’s in the spellbook. It might come in handy.”

“Like that last attempt?” Robert reminded Katie of the incident in her room.

“Stop it.”

Robert surrendered. “Admit it. This break is good for you.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “I prefer to stay in my room. I’m not in the mood to do tastings.”

“Either that or we keep loosing sales. Dad and me still think, and I convinced him, that putting terrans to work and showing they can still work that meaningless fear would subside.”

Robert loved repeating his belief. Somehow he was not listening to reason.

“The last visitor didn’t think so,” Katie reminded him.

Robert shrugged. “He gave you the cold shoulder and left in a second, but it’s a start. Made twenty-two bucks on my part. A lot better since Jaruka stopped coming here a bunch.”

None would be beneficial.

The Walsh Estate Winery building, attached to the warehouse and underground cellar, was the second oldest building on the property. The stores details emanated an old cottage-style interior. Nothing on the walls were painted, just wood and light brown stains to brighten the interior, along with black iron fixtures with candlight-shaped, incandescent light bulbs. It was Katie’s grandmother’s strict design standards that lasted this long to bring character to the estate and its wines. The floorboards creaked anytime someone stepped on them. Tables and upright used wine barrels bared items from local artisans and abroad, from china, eating utensils, history books on Temecula and its wine, including Walsh Estate Winery History by Emily Claire, and of course, the fifteen foot boxed wine rack of all the estate’s year round and seasonal wines, each wine set having a distinctive cork seal to tell which was which as the bottle labels were receded.

Katie grew up with the wines—it was in her blood. Her knowledge and pallet was a natural fit for the tasting bar once she turned twenty-one. Robert was a taster, and like the job, but he preferred to have Katie do it and spend time making with with Jonathan, despite his ghost hunting interests. Before the Wave, her smile had people’s attention. On top of the ears and tail and the rest, the smile had no effect.

Katie’s depression lost her smile.

“Still upset about the other night?” Robert asked.

Katie bit her lip, and nodded. “Can’t bring myself to call Andrea or go to the house.” She took a breath and exhaled. “I don’t know what to do.”

Even though Robert had no contribution, his little sister’s anguish reflected on him.

It still felt like it was yesterday to Katie. Once the neighbors started waking up from the zombie enthrall, Morgan and Beth were still unconscious. No prod or shake could pull them from their slumber. With help from Jaruka and neighbor Joe, which had no issues with terrans from the begging and was grumpy over his upcoming tax return, helped the unconscious parents inside and on the couch. Joe then called the police. Scott felt it was best to leave before the parents had a fit.

Andrea stayed behind. She kept on saying it was her problem and wanted to fix it on her own. The couple had nothing else to do. If they stayed, the verbal abuse would start again. The past few days, Katie poured over her spellbook to find that spell Andrea casted, but sadly she found no hint, and not even Andrea was too stricken that night to say its name.

Jaruka became a hermit afterwards. All Katie’s calls went to his voicemail. A quiet mercenary made Katie nervous.

“You remember what I told you about the spell?” Katie asked.

“Yep,” Robert said, nodding.

“It’s a game changer.” She paused. “I can, if I figure it out, save you guys. It’s hard enough what she said because she said it a million miles per hour.”

“Katie—“

“Robert, listen. If you, or Mom, or Dad, or little Jacob start turning zombie, me and Scott will save you, regardless of any reason you have against magic. I twill happen no matter what, just as soon as I figure out that spell.”

“Alright, I get it,” Robert said. “I go zombie, you make me a terran. Case settled. Stop bringing it up, you don’t need to pursue it to death.” Robert got Katie into the supernatural, but even he felt uncomfortable about terran magic in certain places. The tail could exclude him from dates.

“She does have a point,” a third unknown voice said.

The siblings jolted from the voice and looked over for the source. The huge oak door was open a little. Katie noticed a car in the parking lot with no one inside.

“Hello?” Katie asked.

“Down here.”

Katie found a creature hiding behind the wine rack, standing on its hind legs. The large quills behind it could very well puncture through weak flesh if anybody did not notice it. It stared back at Katie, and Katie stared right back. No mistaking it was a totem, a Celtic tribal tattoo was etched along the left side of its face and the glowing blue eyes.

Robert set his feet down and leaned over the counter. “There’s a porcupine in the store,” he said.

“I’ll handle this,” Katie said. She walked around the bar and approached the totem, the crouched as if comforting a scared child. “Hello there.”

“H-Hello,” she said, hiding half of herself still.

“What’s your name?”

The porcupine gulped. “Dallas. My name’s Dallas, Andrea’s totem.”

Katie gasped as her heart filled with excitement. “Oh my god, I remember her saying about a porcupine totem. Is she here? Please tell me she’s here.”

The porcupine yipped and hid her face.

“Oh sorry. So sorry for raising my voice. Don’t be afraid.”

Dallas peeked out after Katie coaxed her. “She’s behind the door. She made me come out to meet you. I hate being out.”

Katie quickly turned at the door. Andrea stood there, hands behind her back, and wearing clothes of her own with a tail pant mod. She looked to have more life than before, happy even.

Katie, full with glee, hugged Andrea in seconds. “I was so worried about you. I thought about calling but…” Sadness and happiness welled inside Katie.

“I’m fine, Katie. Really,” Andrea said. “I thought about calling too but Mom and Dad refused for being embarrassed.”

“But what are you doing here?” Katie asked. She noticed Dallas walking up and moved to the side. “How are your parents?”

“About them,” Robert said looking out the window. “I may be late in the game, but did they transform?”

Andrea nodded. “They did. It wasn’t easy for them, but I wanted them to come and explain what they told me.”

Again, Katie didn’t notice Morgan and Beth approaching the old wood doors to push them wide open.

Scott just heard the news as he came out of the house. Keeji walked beside him. “Still wondering why they are here?” the husky said.

“I’m still wondering why they haven’t started a fight,” Scott said. “You’re my totem, you’re supposed to know what I think. Remember?”

Jonathan and Brenda did not want to go with him for reasons and kept Jacob inside. They relied on Scott to check see what they wanted.

The patio was the landmark location the same for their famous wine, Cliffhangar Port. Unique and iconic. Katie’s great grandmother was a dedicated gardener and had an affection for recycling junk. The lights—plain lightbulbs inside clear Mason jars strung up on power cables screwed to the wood trellis—made up over half the winery’s advertisements. The tables and chairs were all steel, all handmade. The floor was white mosaic stone, hand laid by Grandmother Walsh. Used wine barrels doubled as flower, herb and vegetable garden pots, stools and short tables for the lounge seats along the low railroad tie barrier.

The patio was the one and only party hotspot and visitor destination to enjoy a glass of wine or two. Seeing the Livingstons on the patio with Katie and Arana, it became a hotbed for an impending fight.

Except, the parents, now terrans, appeared ashamed. The parents sat at one table. Their tails stuck through the chair’s back, unmoving.

“Holy crap,” Keeji said.

“Stop stealing my words,” Scott said.

“Can’t help myself, buddy.”

The stark change, obviously, was their body fat, and strong as Scott would bet. Morgan and Beth looked able to run the LA Marathon without a drink of water. Their black hair had no signs of grey, replaced with life from when they were young, but they did not get a haircut yet. After a transformation, all terrans developed long hair, but how or why the intense remains unanswered. Their business suits were baggy telling Scott they have not bought new clothes.

On the table were their totems. A bald eagle with a Celtic tattoo, different from Arana’s and similarly placed on its chest, and an orange and white bobcat with legs folded under. Its Celtic tattoo was on the right side of its face. Both parents had a glass of wine. Underneath another table, a large porcupine took advantage of the shade, but was scared of anything around her. Is that Andrea’s totem? Scott thought.

“Morning, Mr. Dunne,” the eagle said first, sitting on an empty chair’s back. “I was looking forward to meet you as well. Andrea told much about you and Katie.”

“As do I, sir,” the bobcat said.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Scott said with an attentive tone in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“I told them to come,” Andrea said.

Scott blinked. “I understand but…why?”

Arana arrived and landed on the trellis, looking down at Morgan and Beth. Keeji sat down, tongue sticking out, zoning out.

Beth shook her head while pulling back her hair with both hands. “Andrea, I still don’t feel right being here. I don’t want to be here. I—“

The bobcat turned. “This is for your sake and Morgan’s. I can’t stand staying in that house without a clear conscience. They must know what really happened.”

Beth shook from the totem’s outburst. She had to be her totem.

“Okay,” Katie started. “It seems like it’s more than an apology.”

“Oh, I bet,” Scott said, partially balling his right fist.

Morgan gulped. “I know. We heard. But here me out,” he said. “We were torn to come here. But Andrea wanted to. As far as the transformation, we look like hypocrites. We have a reason why we acted that way.”

Arana’s head tilted. “The truth?” Everybody looked up. “You insulted my host, your daughter’s best friend and her family. You kicked your own daughter out of your home, forced to survive on her own without using magic. And on top of that, you were enthralled and nearly killed us with your bare hands. How can you explain yourself?”

Morgan was about to talk, then paused as the bird mentioned the zombie bit. Beth looked away. Scott seen it before: people being told they were enthralled were scared, confused, even vulnerable.

Scott shook his head. “What Arana mentioned. What truth?”

Beth shook her head again. “We had blackouts,” she said.

Scott’s chin lifted. Katie was taken back. Any thought of hating them left their attention.

“Andrea never told you?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Scott said, noticing Andrea’s drooped ears.

Blackouts were common on the Internet, the free-from-corruption web blogs mostly, but none of them had a shred of thought it was Reaper related. The presence of Reapers was still hush hush across the government and within the Walsh Family. Once General Griffon was nearly killed by Scott’s mana and all enthralled zombies controlled by Griffon in the United States died, other countries had zombies too, except they turned back to normal. Nobody had any memory of being a zombie, and certainly none of them had memories that the Wave ever occurred.

But blackouts became a regular occurrence. Tracking which one was a reaper control or a late night drink marathon had to correlate to the person’s events, but that would take time and money to record it all. It was the once slice of evidence that more Reapers besides Griffon are on Earth.

“When did they happen?” Scott asked. “You might be lying.”

Beth took a breath. “Two weeks before the Wave.”

“You’re kidding?” Katie asked.

“I never kid. We thought it was stress messing with our heads.” Brenda shuttered. “A few minutes in the beginning. One time we were in the office, the next were outside without memory. Then hours, even days passed. It got so bad that we stayed home to not scare our employees. We tracked the blackouts. We can’t remember anything during the Wave or after the attack in Nevada. Then things got worse.”

“How worse?” Katie asked.

“Tasks,” Morgan said. “I wanted to call your parents so many times, but the blackouts somehow kept it from happening. We don’t even remember saying anything to you, not even when you came to the house, we remember nothing.”

“God.” Katie covered her mouth.

So if they did not remember, then who was Scott and Katie talking to?

“It felt,” Brenda said, “like we were in prison by…something. Believe us, if we didn’t come here to apologize, it was a blackout, but there was none after the transformation. Andrea saved us.”

If a new Reaper controlled humans and prevented them from seeking help, then how many people and mass media does the demon control already? Was it even connected to not mention Reapers? Scott felt like screaming while running down the driveway, but did not.

“I saw a transformation circle in the backyard,” Brenda continued. “And we could not find Andrea so we thought the worse. Then nothing after that. The last two weeks were gone. We were alone.” Brenda sniffed. “We woke up with the tattoos and God, we hugged her so tight she screamed of being crushed.”

Andrea nodded and wipe a tear away with a finger. “It’s all Dallas’ help.”

“Wait a minute,” Scott said. “Andrea never said anything about blackouts. She never yelled at us at all before he transformation.”

“I never had them,” Andrea said.

All the terrans and totems turned to the little girl saying, “What?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I never heard of the blackouts until last week. I assumed that Mom and Dad had a change of heart before the Wave.”

“And we forgive you honey,” Brenda said. “Nothing about it was your fault.”

“So all the anti-terran threats. The reasons why magic is dangerous. The reasons why you can’t have Andrea in the house. All of that was not you?”

“Yes, all of it,” Morgan said. “Amongst the mess, we were for terran rights from the very beginning. The things we said was…like we were puppets to something.”

Scott’s mana heart jolted in his chest that his pecks clenched. He pushed those horrific memories behind him.

“What about the totems? They see everything what you guys did,” Katie mentioned.

“Yes and no, Ms. Walsh,” the eagle said. “We experienced bits and pieces of the enthrallment, but it was blackness. We were beaten and tortured by telepathic violence day in and day out.”

“That answers that question.”

“When these two arrived in their Inner Sanctums, we were so beaten we barely moved. I felt like I was mauled by an alligator. Feeling our hosts hold us made us recover quickly.” The eagle sniffed.

“Never again I want those feeling come back,” the bobcat added.

“Don’t you two worry,” Katie said. “Blogs assume that terrans can’t be zombies anymore.”

The relieve in the parent’s eyes was evident.

“Well, there is the magic, and I don’t think you two tried it out?”

“Not quite but eventually,” Beth said. “I mean it’s there so why not? Me and Morgan must know how this impacts the economy and be prepared.”

Katie smiled for them accepting it and thinking ahead.

“I’m guessing this place is getting hit financially, right?” Morgan asked.

“You’ll see,” Katie said. “But here’s what I still don’t know.” Katie looked at Andrea. “What did you do to save them?”

Without any more questions and hoping to get any closer, Andrea told them what Dallas discovered. It made Katie so excited yet stupid to not notice it sooner, and thus Scott knowing what to look for in his spellbook.

“I want to talk to the alien,” Andrea said.

“Jaruka?” Scott said. “Why?”

“I want to thank him.”

Scott eyed Katie, and returned the gesture.

Alien Campsite, Temecula, CA

Fifteen minutes later…

Half a mile north from Doffo Winery and one-thousand feet east from Lake Skinner’s entrance, sat the alien vessel inside a high and wide repulsion shield against a small hill.

Inside, Jaruka Teal stared into space and pretended what he heard was a creak in the dropship’s hull. “Don’t be Mathews. Please, don’t be Mathews.”

Two knocks outside the rear hatch. Jaruka closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Only one person would frequent him on a bi-daily or weekly check-up as CIA agent Victor Mathews.

“You must be joking,” Jaruka said. “One time, just one time I’m right without issues.” He got up from his cot and walked to his station. “I swear if it’s Mathews again that boy better have a cup in pla…Oh.”

On the security screen, the camera had Scott, Katie, and their totems standing before the hatch. The repulsion shield can keep everything and everyone out, but it can be programmed to be selective. Jaruka and five others were allowed in, and sometimes he wished he could remove their passage, but that would put Denverbay off.

“Jaruka, you awake?” Scott said through the mic with two more knocks. “We came to talk about the other night.”

Jaruka closed his eyes, then pondered. He did not want to talk to anybody that day out of spite. But they were his only friends on this world. He opened the hatch and peered outside. People’s voices outside the shield, familiar ones mostly, grew from his presence.

“He’s outside, our prophet has come forth!” One religious nut chanted.

Do they have some other fanatic to foam over? Jaruka thought.

“Hey there,” Katie said. “You look a little frazzled. And stink.”

“Water tanks are low. Haven’t left to get some. Obviously,” Jaruka said in clear English, pulling a few oily skindreads away. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Keeji said.

Jaruka grumbled. “Hey, it’s not easy combing through your spellbook with a near broken translator, kid.”

“It’s mostly that,” Scott said.

“Anyway,” Katie said to prevent the impending fight. “We came because Andrea wants to thank you.”

“Oh. Her, Wait. Thank me? After what her did to me?” He popped his head out and looked at the crowd, spotting the Livingstons a foot from the shield. The other campers—hippies, lowlifes, religious folk, evolution haters, and college students—cheered at his presence. The crowd grew every week; it was turning into a public hazard. The government could keep them away, but the Titan spires have them scared if even touching the shield.Make the dropship without weapons, what a brilliant idea.

Andrea waved at him. Jaruka did not wave for the crowd might get the wrong message.

“I barely did anything to be thanked,” Jaruka said, but noticed the changed parents. “And…Oh, I see. They transformed.”

“Andrea really wants to talk to you,” Scott said.

“Oh come on, I told them what I had to say.”

“Told them what?

Jaruka paused. “Eh…nevermind. Although, I do want to know what she did.” Jaruka thought for a few seconds. “Let me get the handheld.” What he talked about with the parents, Jaruka’s family, was best not to be shared to them, especially the ones he was close to. He found the device and passed it to Katie.

Katie went back for Andrea’s blood sample from a pin prick, then the shield generator’s computer dinged, the message that Andrea was added to the “Allow” database. Katie gave the thumbs up and Andrea walked through. They walked back holding hands. The campers became furious. The parents grew concerned but were protected by stationed military personnel. But the campers grew insulting to the girl.

“She has the right to come here you greedy bastards!” Jaruka yelled at them. He could see the local tabloids buzzing already and hounding the poor kid how was it inside.

“Hello, Jaruka,” Andrea said walking up with a basket in her hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Hello. What do you want?”

“I just came over to talk and thank you,” she said, not phased by Jaruka’s voice. “ Your place looks awesome.”

Jaruka’s brow furrowed. “They say it, it’s just a dropship.”

“I brought you something.” Andrea held up with her hands a basket of red fruit. “They’re apples.”

Jaruka did not accept.

“Just take it,” Scott whispered.

Rolling his eyes, Jaruka took the basket and said, “Thanks.” Hope they aren’t poisonous. He set them inside on an bare crate.

“See that wasn’t so bad,” Scott said.

“Don’t, kid. Just don’t.”

Katie leaned down to Andrea’s height. “Tell him what else you have to say.”

“Oh, yes. Nearly forgot,” Andrea said. “I want to talk about what I did to save my parents.”

Jaruka looked back at the crowd. “Come inside, I don’t want these hopeful people to know about it.”

Arana told Keeji to stay outside, just so that Keeji did not get his nose in Jaruka’s things again. He led them inside the dropship, which caused a stir from the crowd and the Livingstons.

“Hang on, we have to be there too you know,” Morgan yelled.

“This is just a small talk, your child is safe,” Jaruka said.

“I highly doubt that.”

Do they even remember what I said?

Jaruka closed the hatch thinking also, His tone changed.

The Marin’zal gunnery dropship, it was originally built to house four troop seat rows, a weapon rack above the seats, two side turrets (removed), and very minimal storage. Before Jaruka was sent to Earth, it was heavily modified within a couple hours to suit his basic needs. The two middle seat rows were removed. The third port side seat row was gutted and replaced with a basic kitchen and shower, which had its fill of Jaruka’s random rage attacks. Most of what he could recover from the Lunar Spear was strewn all over the place like clothes, gadgets, and stuff the terrans failed to associate with.

Scott, Katie and the totems no better to not mess with anything on the ship, except Andrea. She looked up at Jaruka’s Custom T31ZK Plasma Rifle on its wall pedestal, next to his katana. She was about to touch it when Jaruka moved his hand between Andrea’s and the plasma rifle’s locked trigger.

“No touching. That’s my rule around here,” he said.

“Ok,” Andrea said. “It looks so cool.”

Jaruka sniffed. “Alright, kid. Tell us. What did you do?”

Andrea sat down at the fourth remaining seat row. Her porcupine totem exited her and sat two seats to her right because of the quills. That’s her spirit guide. The totem reminded Jaruka of one of the metal spike-covered wallowbads from his homeworld, and a certain jackass from Creos.

“What I did was charge my mana, speak words Dallas told me, touched the crystal on the front yard, and this… energy escaped me. It felt nothing like mana,” Andrea started. “She kept screaming in my head since you crashed through the window, but I was scared what would happen. I couldn’t trust him.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear. What is the spell?” Jaruka pressed. “You said words I cannot remember. My patience is waning thin here so think hard.”

“It wasn’t a spell, I think. It was a limerick.”

Jaruka blinked and his arms fell to his sides. “What the crog is a limerick?”

“Language,” Katie said.

“It’s a poem,” Scott said. “A type of human poem.”

“I know about poems…” Magic spells use poems too across magical species. The big difference was using a dormant Wave crystal. “That’s it? Just a poem?”

“No. There’s more to it, Jaruka,” Katie said. “You still have Scott’s spellbook?”

“I haven’t given it back yet so yeah.” Jaruka pointed to a makeshift desk covered in weathered papers, strings, and photographs, much like what Katie’s desk looked like. Scott’s dark green cover spellbook sat open.

Katie went to it, but paused. “You were ripping pages out of it?”

“You did what to my book?” Scott said.

“Oh that. Check this out.” Jaruka smirked.

“Jaruka,” Katie said with an elevated tone. “This is a priceless tome of knowledge. You can’t just rip delicate pa…”

Jaruka took a page on terran anatomy right out of it’s binding. Katie was about to loose her mind, but she saw mana glowing from the ripped edge. “See?”

The duplicate page manifested to reality just as mana transmuting to the caster’s desires. The page that was ripped was an exact duplicate.

“How in the…”

“You never tried doing it to your own?” Jaruka said. “Found that out when I blasted it with a plasma round accidentally. I save money. Those pages have been out for weeks without disappearing. Be grateful you’ll learn magic so enough.” Scott pocketed his hands. “Now, kid, as you were saying?”

Katie shook her head and lifted the spellbook. She brought it so all five could see it.

“We know it’s a spell, and a poem,” Katie started, “but what Andrea and Dallas said to me and Scott, it’s hidden.”

Jaruka felt like not interrupting.

“I assumed, but it’s not entirely in plain sight. Follow me.” She turned several pages to a section of basic terran magic mechanics and placed her finger on one bold Celtic word in purple. “Seen these?”

“Yeah,” Jaruka said.

“I’ve seen these colored words and thought they were a glossary type of format when looking up a definition. It turns out to be part of the limerick, connected to a symbol of the required object.”

“Catalyst,” Jaruka clarified. One squandered over his earhole curled.

“Right. And that tiny number on the top right of the word.” She pointed at it. “That’s the word placement in a sentence. The purple words makes up one poem.” Katie’s smile grew, but Jaruka did not.

Katie pulled out her black notebook from her jacket pocket. “It reads:”

The Darkness consumes an innocent soul,

thwart freedom and the abundant bowl.

A Keystone will Spark

to give souls a Mark.

And the Darkness will take a toll.

“Dallas said it’s the Keystone Waker spell,” Andrea said.

“I was so tired to realize that it stared right in my face,” Katie said with excitement. “Not only the basics are visible, but advanced spells and rituals are spread out. Isn’t this awesome, Jaruka? We have tiers of hidden magic! I swear there are more so we just need to keep looking.”

“Sounds awesome to me,” Scott said. “Maybe one of them can heal my heart faster.”

Andrea and Dallas agreed too. Katie nodded with hope.

But not Jaruka. By the Goddess, he thought.

He felt agitated by the discovery and showed no expression, but his back-most skindreads under the honor dread stump were curling like octopus tentacles in boiling water. At times, he reviewed Scott’s spellbook in a rage. The rage coming from his situation. He did not pay attention so much that he glazed over the pages. He looked past the terrans to the table. He noticed the purple symbols, then a few yellow ones.

He had a sickening realization that every terran spellbook has them.

“Of course, I found it,” Dallas said. “I never came out, this world scares me. So I talked to her, yelled at her, to use magic, to stop putting fear in front. I found that spell the day she transformed, and I pleaded her to use it on her parents.”

The totem knew?

Andrea nodded. “And I didn’t trust her. I was so conflicted to what to do I was afraid of killing people with magic.”

“Until you listened.”

“I was afraid,” Andrea affirmed.

You should have come forward you stupid kid.

“And you had ever right, but you had to make the right choice.”

Andrea nodded.

“I agree,” Katie said. “Making the right decision is hard. What you did showed more.”

Andrea shrugged. “Having responsibilities suck.”

Katie laughed.

Scott sat beside her. “Sometimes we have to do what we are afraid of doing. You know, I was afraid too. I was afraid of magic if I would loose to it. Become corrupt. And it nearly costed my life when I needed it the most.”

“What do you mean?” Andrea asked.

“This.” Scott lifted his shirt showing the little girl his scar. It was healed but pale colored, just like the rest of his scars from years past that never disappeared after his transformation. Andrea gasped. “I nearly died at Area 51. This slowly healing mana heart saved me. And Katie. And Jaruka. And others. Now I wish I never regret ignoring my gift because I’m useless without it.”

“He relies on me most of the time,” Katie said.

Andrea touched the scar. Surly Jaruka, not saying it out loud, wanted to thank that mana heart for saving him and maiming General Griffon, but he was too freaked out by the limerick discovery.

“Scary,” Andrea said. “But what if…”

“Forget the what ifs,” Katie interjected. “You did what was right. You saved your parents. We are all terrans now. Magic is part of our lives now.”

Andrea took a breath and covered her face.

“Don’t worry. When you want to talk, I’ll teach you,” Katie told her and closed the spellbook.

“That sounds fun.”

Scott looked back at Jaruka, frozen on place. “Hey, you okay?” he said with a poke to Jaruka’s tattooed bicep.

Jaruka coughed. “It’s time to go,” he said. “You might not know this but I’m not comfortable with humans or terrans in my space.”

“But I just got here,” Andrea complained.

“Well it’s my place, my rules. And now I have more research to do.”

“That’s cold you know,” Katie said.

“Cold as a space glacier.” Jaruka did not catch Andrea as she plowed into him, hugging his right leg. “You could at least warn me.” Being taller than the rest, Andrea was no taller than Jaruka’s thigh.

“Thank you for that bit of courage back home,” she said.

“Eh…no problem,” Jaruka said, but scared to touch her. He felt her hand tug something in his pants pocket, and the act was not in view of the couple.

After she left to join her family along with Dallas inside her, Scott and Katie stayed behind. “We could stay here for a while,” Katie said. “Comb through the spellbook and find more poems.”

“Nah, I’ll manage,” Jaruka said.

“Oh come on,” Scott started.

“I said I’ll manage.”

“You don’t know anything about human poetry.”

Jaruka breathed and said, “Rhymes, patterns and deep meanings—poems are not a human invention.”

He promised to share what he found, if any, before the couple and totems left.

He closed the hatch and reached into his pocket. Andrea gave back his photograph of his family, folded four times. Instantly, flashes of his life flowed through his eyes. The memories were so deep they…

He crumpled the picture into a ball. It will join the fire pit soon.

“Frightened, yet respectful. Good kid,” he said and went to work.

Late that night, when all the campers were asleep, Jaruka was wide awake in shock, like a moment a shard of enlightenment. He uncorked his first bottle of Endeavour homebrew for the night. He had plenty in storage, but it was untold when he will get a new shipment to feed his need.

Filling his tall glass and taking a long, burning drink, he stared back at the desk with his head feeling like crap.

Jaruka never done this sort of research since his Academy years on magic studies, but not this obsessive or concerning.

The “rescue” spell Andrea performed was found, the Keystone Waker. Afterwards, there were five more. Jaruka stood back and leaned on a stack of crates to view the torn out spellbook pages, pins, and strings on the wall connecting to colored symbols. He filled his glass again and downed the brew in one gulp. He still could not translate them, but the symbols were written down, scanned, and recorded. He just needed help from Katie for translation, but he was more afraid that if she knew, she might use them, and had no idea what those spells do.

“What is going on here?” he mumbled.

Several rings came from the briefcase. It was someone calling in. “Finally,” Jaruka said. “Took him long enough.”

The Slipspace device has been on and transmitting a call signal for the past hour and almost running out the Slipspace crystal’s fuel. Jaruka did not want to call him, but this evidence had to be passed. Jaruka answered the call.

The screen flickered and a humanoid alien head appeared. It was a Creosian, a three-eyed half humaniod, half tripodic being with an insidious amount of quills on his head that made up the person’s “hair.” The alien licked his mouth and yawned. At public events, the quills were combed back professionally, but some were crossing each other. Jaruka smirked; he caught him in the morning without his Galactic Council robes, wearing a thin light blue robe.

“Waking me up before dawn,” Councilman Denverbay said. “I swear it was a Council matter.”

“Then my header hack works,” Jaruka said. “I got something you must hear before I tell Xi’Tra.”

“Can’t this wait until I’m awake and fed? This better not be about your new ship or I’m hanging up.”

“The ship can wait,” Jaruka badgered. “You and Brill always say ‘when it’s done, it’s done.’ I get the point. I’m talking about the terrans here. Something came up, something bad.”

Denverbay was in his personal office at his family home in Salajon Valley on Creos. The morning light was nearly peeking past the mountains behind the councilman.

“I suppose you increased your intelligence gathering,” Denverbay mentioned.

“Crog no, don’t be stupid.” Anybody calling Denverbay stupid would be killed instantly, but Jaruka was safe.

“You’re recent reports failed the Archive’s interests. The way station has grown tired of your attitude.”

“He’s an ass.”

Denverbay’s three eye’s squinted. “You have been drinking.”

“I just started,” Jaruka said lifting his glass. “I had to focus. This is recovery.”

“Spare me, Halcunac. Tell me what you fond before I cut this expensive call.”

Jaruka sat back down at the desk’s chair. “You remember Scott Dunne and Katie Walsh?” he said.

“I do.”

Jaruka then told Denverbay the events leading up to his findings, finishing with a long drink, emptying his glass.

“Impressive, huh?” Jaruka asked as he filled his glass again.

“That is impressive. Any chance what this spell is?”

“It’s two spells in one,” Jaruka started. “One is a Castelazan monk endowment spell, when a magical creature gives temporary magical energy to both magical and non-magical. Nova has a pack of them in its ranks.”

“Those monks are heavy enchanted item users,” Denverbay said.

“Exactly, but this was scribed to be a trigger spell, not a ritual. So no matter the situation, a terran uses the Wave crystal as a catalyst. And there are a shit ton of crystals on this planet.”

Denverbay was quiet for a second. “Meaning?”

Jaruka sighed. “It triggers the terran transformation without consent. If my assumption is right, this can be used for mass transformations, lowering the expected conversion time.”

Denverbay slowly blinked. “You do know that my species is not magical, and this is a long time I heard any clear and non-insulting magical explanation come out of you.”

“Told you I got something. There is a way to not only break them of the enthrallment, but this can.”

Denverbay’s head tipped back as agreeing.

“What do you think?” Jaruka asked. “Still think my GMT theory is bogus? Still think the Malcar’Ji on Terra Firma are a coincidence?”

Denverbay folded his hands and his chin rested on them, six fingers in total, each with a claw to cut Jaruka’s skindreads off. “The theory is still being reviewed. There must be more evidence to help the case.”

Jaruka became furious that he threw the empty brew across the ship, shattering against the wall. “Cut the sidestep worm shit you croging excuse of a politician. This is GMT written all over the human’s croging DNA and you know it!”

“Mr. Teal. You are talking to someone with high power. This sort of thing has to be explained slowly, patiently. GMTs are complicated, the Republic know this.”

“I’m not assuming, this is fact.” Jaruka grabbed the camera on top of the briefcase, tethered to the lid, and aimed it at the desk. “See this?”

“I do,” Denverbay said with no tone.

“Five hidden, high-level spells across multiple pages. Every single terran I talked to said the spellbook wasn’t in their brains before. The crystals, the magic’s structure, and terran biology are borrowing known spells, rituals across know magical species. I’m lucky no Halcunac incantations surfaced, but I’ll be damned if they are.” He set the camera back, almost breaking it on the lid. “Somebody is behind all this. Benali is the only lead we have. And to make those quills of yours shudder in some way, if this culture accelerates their transformation, I’ll be retrofitting this dropship, fly into space, and set myself on ice straight back to Creos. Or I’m say enough, use this briefcase to make my own Slipspace rift.”

Jaruka pulled back, then dozed off. He spoke so much he did not take a breath. He shook his head.

For years, the Galactic Council is a win/loose streak for speakers. You might not know what answer you get unless your argument is valid and solid. Others succeeded, and others failed, even if it was true. All part of heavy checks and balances between the members. But convincing one outside the Council, like Denverbay, was difficult. Denverbay’s nickname is the Hammer, after slamming and breaking gavels after high-profile cases and passing on harsh sentences. The Creosion did not flinch, move, not even a nostril flair.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Denverbay asked.

“The same thing, but make it faster,” Jaruka said after drinking. “How’s ‘bout that team you’re forming?”

“I’m still working on it.” No sign of lie in that voice.

“Not fast enough, but I want someone on the team I know and trust.”

“Who?” Denverbay asked.

“This guy will do it in a wing flap.” Jaruka smirked. “Domoja Balcusten, a Faldeg sorcerer. He was my Academy professor on magical theory.”

“Scholars is not what I’m looking for, and it’s a tall order.”

“He’s also a high honcho expert on GMTs. Look him up and bring him in, also tell him I said hi.”

“And you’re sure he’s an expert?”

“Me and Domoja fought in the Goomash Raid,” Jaruka said with a level voice. “He contributed to the court case you were part of,” I added.

“Oh, that political mess.” Denverbay lowered his hands and typed away, hopefully the notes Jaruka explained. It seemed he forgot already.

“And make sure there is a crystal expert. I need to know if there is anything else lurking in these Wave crystals.”

“I already have a couple hundred candidates for it, Jaruka.”

“Oh, good.” Jaruka smirked. “At least you’re doing something at least.”

“Something?” Denverbay asked.

“One more thing,” Jaruka said with a smile. “Make sure my new ship’s paint job is what I asked for.”

The connection was cut before Denverbay answered. Jaruka did not take that personally, but loved the ploy of annoying the one person that put him in this situation. He kept asking about his ship, but he only got bits a pieces on it’s progress. Brill was useless, but Brill would be the one to make it a surprise.

Jaruka made another call to Xi’Tra. The screen flickered to a female Zimmi GNN investigative reporter. She apparently was wide-awake, noon-ish compared to the light coming from the window, and still wore her bedclothes.

“I had a hunch you would be calling sometime,” Xi’Tra said. “I’ve been waiting for new reports from you for a while. You need to step it up.” She sipped her hot tea from a ceramic mug.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s hard enough people recognize my DNA mask now. But I got something here, and it’s something you have got to hear.”